


Truth or Potion

by TheJackieMo



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/F, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-29
Updated: 2017-09-08
Packaged: 2018-12-21 09:24:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11941152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheJackieMo/pseuds/TheJackieMo
Summary: A collection of One-Shots centered around a number of eighth-year Slytherins. Updated sporadically.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A/N- Hi All! This first chapter will be the prologue which all following one-shots will be based off of. I’m not sure when I will be posting each of them, it’ll probably be pretty sporadic, but I hope you like them!  
> Beta services compliments of the lovely Kabg01

 

Truth or Potion

Prologue

 

“If I had to pick between a troll and McGonagall? Easy. I’d go for the troll. Ask me something difficult next time, Pans,” Draco Malfoy slurred from his spot on a Slytherin common room couch. He and several Housemates had begun a game of truth or dare several hours earlier. Of course, being Slytherins, they harbored a number of secrets and opted to drink instead of revealing the requested information.

“Fine, fine,” the raven-haired witch rolled her eyes. “How about this?” She looked around the circle of friends. “The next time each of us passes, we have to drink one of these.”

“What is it?” Zabini asked, peering at the mystery potion vials Pansy held out for them all to see.

“That’s for me to know and you to find out.”

“And we should trust you because…?” asked Draco.

“Dear, Merlin. It’s not poison!” She complained, rolling her eyes again.

“It is Veritaserum?” Millicent asked.

“No, and it’s not a love potion, or any of the other crazy things you’re probably thinking.”

“Then why not tell us?” Millicent asked again.

“What’s the fun in that? Besides this is supposed to be extra incentive to tell the truth.”

A moment passed before Goyle agreed to the new terms. The others were impressed; he was usually a follower, not a leader, but as it was, the rest of the group followed his example and reluctantly agreed.

“Right, who wants to go first?” When no one volunteered, Pansy ‘randomly’ picked someone. “Draco!”

“Dare.”

“I dare you to kiss the prettiest witch here,” Pansy beamed at him, pursing her lips in anticipation. Draco took a moment to look at Pansy, then Millicent, the only girls in their group, and think before he stood somewhat gracefully in his inebriated state, strode over to a group of fifth year girls, knelt in front of one, and kissed her firmly on the mouth. While she had previously been giggling with her friends, she then sat in shock, her eyes wide as Malfoy snogged her. Even after he stood and returned to his spot, the girl and her friends stared after him. He paid hem no further attention.

“What was that about?” Pansy demanded, her cheeks growing red in anger.

“You said to kiss the prettiest girl here.”

“Yes, and you kissed some nobody?”

“She’s the prettiest girl here. You didn’t say I had to know her, or she had to be playing with us.” Unable to argue, Pansy huffed, slumped and glared at the floor. “I suppose it’s my turn then. Blaise, truth or dare?” the dark-skinned wizard gave Draco a wry grin.

“Dare.”

“I dare you to drink Pansy’s potion.” Draco saw the witch perk up out of the corner of his eye.

“That’s not part of the game!” Blaise argued. “It’s only meant for when we pass!”

“I don’t remember that being stipulated in the rules. Do you, Pansy?” The blond turned to the witch once more, his expression that of pure innocence. Pansy, all too happy to encourage the idea, shook her head.

“Nope. I never said it was _only_ for passes.”

“Alright then, Blaise. Drink up,” Draco waved one of the vials in front of his friend’s face. “If you pass, you have to drink anyway, so let’s just find out what all the fuss is about, eh?”

Glaring at his “friend,” Blaise snatched the vial from the blond’s hand, noticing Pansy’s gleeful expression. Honestly, her grin practically split her face in two. In one fluid motion, he unstoppered the potion and downed it.

“Well?” Nott asked after a moment. The small group, with the exception of Pansy who couldn’t contain her excitement, sat perfectly still and watched the Italian for any sign of poisoning or other strangeness.

“I….I don’t feel any different.” Still, they all waited another few moments before settling back into more relaxed positions.

“Alright then. Who’s next?” Nobody immediately reacted to the raven-haired witch’s question.

“Millicent, you’re up,” Draco finally said. The plump witch glanced nervously at Zabini once more before taking a breath and beginning her turn.

“Truth.”

“Alright. Over the summer, I spotted you and a pretty girl we’ve never seen before looking awfully close in a dark corner of the Leaky Cauldron. Who is she?” Draco watched as the poor girl’s eyes grew twice their size and darted around the circle of Slytherins.

“I-I-uh…” Her mouth set in a nervous frown as she clearly attempted to come up with some explanation.

“You know, there’s another option here. Pansy’s potion.” The blond wizard waved another vial in front of her, which she quickly snatched up and threw back. However, once she realized what she had done without thinking, her gaze darted back to Blaise in horror. He just shrugged.

The game continued in much the same way for nearly every other player, except Draco, who was very crafty in his interpretations of every question aimed at him. He hadn’t risked choosing dare since his own dare for Blaise, knowing how that would turn out.

“Okay, Draco. Truth or dare?” Pansy asked him for the fourth time that night, knowing which option he would go for.

“Truth.” The hour had grown late and half the group had already fallen asleep on the rug in front of the Slytherin Common Room fire. Still, Pansy was determined to get Draco to drink one of her potions.

“Merlin’s tits, Draco, just pick dare already!” Pansy herself was heavily leaning on the armrest of the couch Draco laid on, her eyelids drooping in her exhaustion.

“No,” he smirked from his place among emerald pillows, his eyes closed. Pansy looked around the room, as if she could find a complicated enough question for Draco to pass on answering amidst the fireplace or forgotten textbooks. The last two times he evaded her questions, she had begun to consider going a much more Slytherin route, but worried he would be very angry with her. She needed to determine how badly she wanted him to take the damn potion. Was her amusement worth Draco potentially not speaking to her for the foreseeable future?

Yes.

“Fine. When You-Know-Who was living in Malfoy Manor, you flooed to my house in a tizzy one night.” Draco was already glaring at his “friend” for bringing up the time he had the Dark Lord in his home. “Why?” The blond frowned at her question, gradually paling as the minutes wore on. He was clearly trying to come up with a way to avoid answering with the whole truth.

Blaise groggily turned to his friend from his spot on the nearby armchair in interest. Theo and Goyle, too, were awake enough to pay closer attention to the outcome. After several tense minutes, Draco finally extended his hand, glaring at the group who were all staring at him in shock. The vial had hardly touched his hand before it was thrown back and Draco grabbed a second.

“Pansy. Truth or Dare?” He asked as he sat up on the couch.

“What?” The witch’s good mood completely vanished as the question dawned on her.

“You heard me. Truth….or dare?” Draco’s icy grey eyes stared her down in challenge and a small smirk played at the corners of his lips.

“I-That’s-I’m not playing!” Her eyes widened in panic.

“It’s only fair, Pansy, dear,” Blaise grinned.

“Answer the question,” Draco demanded.

“No!” She nearly screamed and jumped up from her seated position on the floor. Despite his drowsy state, Blaise’s hand shot out to grab her wrist, preventing her escape. Draco helped his dark-skinned friend hold her down against the couch he had stood from.

“So is that a ‘pass’?”

“I think it is, Draco,” Blaise grunted as the witch attempted to knee his crown jewels.

Five vials still lay where Pansy had deposited them, near where she had been sitting. Plucking one from the floor, Draco unstoppered it and held it over the witch’s face.

“You know the penalty for passing, Pansy.” Draco’s grin was almost maniacal as Blaise forced her mouth open. They ignored her frustrated screams that woke everyone in the common room and poured the contents down her throat, making sure to cover her mouth so she would be forced to swallow it. When they were satisfied that she had done so, they released her and made their way for the boy’s dorms, the rest of their group following suit.

“What? Where are you going?” Pansy cried out from her sprawled position among the pillows.

“To bed?” Draco said. “It’s late and I’m tired.”

“B-but, what about me?”

“What _about_ you?”

“I-I wasn’t playing. Why’d you make me take the potion?”

“Pansy, dear, if the potion was harmless, then you have nothing to worry about.” The witch set her mouth in a grim line, unable to argue, since she had in fact promised that the potion was harmless. And it _was_. But that didn’t mean it was going to be a pleasant experience.

She watched as the rest of the eighth year Slytherins disappeared to their respective dorms before she finally stood up and followed. Sleep evaded her as she imagined every horrible scenario that could take place because of the potion. She hadn’t seen exactly which one Draco had given her, so she couldn’t be sure what to avoid. The next week was going to be Hell.


	2. Draco

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK so this took a few days longer than I anticipated, but here it is!  
> As usual, beta services are courtesy of the lovely Kabg01.  
> Enjoy!

Truth or Potion

Draco

 

Friday dawned with the giant squid bumping against the windows of the eighth year boy’s dorm room windows. It couldn’t have been accidental because as Draco stirred from his sleep, he saw the beast also sticking and unsticking its tentacles to the reinforced glass. He groaned and rolled over, pulling his pillow over his head.

As he slowly woke fully, he remembered Pansy’s potion and the supposed benign nature of the concoction. Was it though? Pushing the pillow against the headboard, Draco took account for all body parts, taking a full extra minute to examine his most prized possession for any signs of damage. Everything was accounted for. He then left the bed, thankful for the magically warmed floors, and made his way to the mirror to inspect his face and head. Still, no change.

Perhaps the potion was only meant to scare everyone? What was that called? A playbill? Placenta? Oh, a ‘placebo’. The wizard certainly hoped that was the case. Determined to accept the theory, Draco collected his toiletries and made his way to the showers.

The morning passed with no strangeness, reinforcing Draco’s placebo theory. He noticed the rest of his Slytherin Housemates had also calmed down since breakfast, probably thinking along the same lines.

Potions class was different.

Of course, all was well when their group walked into the dungeons classroom and took their usual seats. Even as Professor Slughorn instructed all students to open their books, nothing unusual happened. However, rather than letting the Slytherin and Gryffindor students chose their own partners, the stout man decided, in the spirit of House unity, that each student would be paired with another from the opposite House.

He watched as each of his Housemates were paired with a Gryffindor. It made him incredibly uncomfortable, despite not holding the same views as he did before the war. Just knowing that he had been on the “wrong side” made any sort of interaction with those who fought on the Light side awkward.

“Draco Malfoy...” His head perked up at the sound of his name. “…and Hermione Granger.”

His stomach plummeted to the floor. Of course. Of all the Gryffindors to be paired with, Slughorn would choose the one he had the worst history with. This was worse than being paired with Potter. At least he’d never called the other wizard a Mudblood, or suggested he die in second year, or stood by as he got tortured in his own house, or…

This was going to be very awkward.

“Malfoy.” The brunette witch greeted as they approached their assigned work station. At least she didn’t seem to be too upset with the pairing.

“Granger.” She set her things down on the table and began looking through the textbook for the supplies they would need for the assignment.

“Alright, so if you wouldn’t mind getting the scarab beetles and ginger roots, I’ll grab the cauldron and the rest.” Draco nodded, working hard to avoid saying anything unsavory. It was just reflex to offend the witch, even though he had more than enough reason to be kneeling at her robes and kissing the hem in thanks for helping to keep him out of Azkaban. As it was, he simply did as he was asked and made his way to collect the requested ingredients.

When they both returned to the work station, Granger had already started the fire and was putting together the base solution. After he chopped the ginger roots, and deduced that enough time had passed for them to be added to the mixture, Draco moved to drop the ingredients into the cauldron. At the same time, the Gryffindor witch was so engrossed in her brewing that she attempted to collect the roots herself. The hands of both students made contact for a moment in the confusion.

 _Oh! What’s that?_ Draco heard the witch ask.

“I was just about to add these,” he responded.

“Thank you Mal-er…Draco.” The blond looked up at her then, questioningly. “Do you mind…if I call you Draco? It is your name and…we should all try to move past the things that have happened.” After a moment, he nodded in compliance and watched as she stirred in the ginger.

After the armadillo bile was added, the pair noticed that they would need more scarab beetles than Draco had originally brought over, so he would need to get more from the storage closet. This required shuffling past his partner.

“Excuse me, Granger,” he mumbled as he gently touched her shoulder to keep them both from falling over in the small space between desks.

_I wish he would call me Hermione. We’re supposed to be moving on._

“What was that?” Draco asked as he was still half standing behind Granger.

“What was what?” She responded, confusion clear on her face.

“You just said something.”

“No I didn’t.”

“Yes, you did. I definitely heard you.”

“Draco, I think you’re hearing things.” Unconvinced, Draco shrugged his shoulders and proceeded to the storage closet.

When he returned, the potion was ready for the next ingredient, so he grounded himself by touching her shoulder again and attempted to hurry past to crush the scarabs.

_-but I was really hoping to go to the library tomorrow night. Why can’t Harry reschedule the Quidditch game? He’s the Captain and they only play four games a year!_

“You can’t cancel Quidditch. It’s practically against the law,” Draco’s first attempt at humor with the witch was only met with big brown eyes staring at him in confusion.

“W-what?”

“Quidditch,” he said again. “It doesn’t matter that there’s only four official games; canceling it is basically a sin.”

“H-how…did you…?”

“Nevermind,” he mumbled, successfully crushing the beetles and adding them to the cauldron.

“No, please.”

“Please _what_?” Draco hadn’t meant to inject venom in his question, but his patience was wearing thin the more he embarrassed himself.

“Why did you say that?”

“About Quidditch? I just- you mentioned it….” He felt his embarrassment begin to color his cheeks. “It’s called a conversation, Granger, or are you too dim to know one when presented to you?”

He immediately regretted his words, but couldn’t find the right ones to fix his mistake. He watched as the witch’s face fell and she turned back to the potion at hand.

“Oh, I’m sorry to upset you, Draco. I was just…I don’t know.” Draco saw the flush on her own cheeks too. Apparently she was just as embarrassed as he felt.

“Why were you talking to yourself anyway?” He asked, attempting to salvage the situation. She glanced back up at him, her eyebrow rose.

“Talking to myself? I wasn’t.” She looked back at the potion. It was almost finished.

“Yeah, you were. I heard you.” Granger added one last stir before the potion turned a perfect bright yellow, before she bottled the vial, turned off the cauldron flame and turned back to him.

“Draco, I was not talking to myself. That’s not to say I wasn’t thinking about things, but everyone knows I can’t turn my mind off.” Draco wasn’t buying it. He was certain he’d heard her talking.

“Sure Granger, whatever.”

Class had finished and, Draco hurried to get back to his usual group and away from the awkwardness that was working with Hermione Granger. Unfortunately, it would appear both students were in a rush to get away and they collided, resulting in the brunette witch toppling over a chair. Draco’s Seeker reflexes immediately moved to grab her hand, while his other arm somehow found her waist.

_Oh Merlin! What? Draco? Oh good, he caught me. See? He’s not so bad._

Draco stared down at the witch as he heard her go on about him catching her. But her lips weren’t moving.

 _I hope he’s alright. Oh no, did he get hurt? I probably kicked him_ ‘down there’, _didn’t I? Is he going to let me back up? Why is he staring? Hm…his eyes are almost blue, aren’t they?_

Draco listened as what he could only assume were her thoughts rambled on. She was right, her brain really didn’t know how to stop. Still, the strangeness of her voice filling his head was a bit overwhelming, but incredibly intriguing.

“Draco?” _Can he hear me? Is he alright?_ “Draco? Are you alright?”

“Yeah…” He brought her back to a standing position, not letting go of her wrist or waist just yet.

_Maybe he should see Madam Pomfrey. He’s looking a bit pale…well, paler than usual. Although, I suppose, now that I’m getting such a good look at him, he’s not so much pale as…fair? Yeah. But his lips look nice. Oh Merlin Hermione, you did not just think about his lips!_

Draco’s brows came together at the last comment, and noticed that her gaze did indeed travel to his lips.

_Stop it. Stop it! Hermione. Oh gosh. He’s still staring. Stop looking at his mouth. Stop it Hermione!_

Her eyes closed tightly, which Draco found slightly amusing, given that she hadn’t actually said anything out loud yet.

“Hermione? Everything alright over here?” Potter appeared at the pair’s side, clearly assuming his friend was in some sort of mortal peril. Draco released her.

“Oh, Harry! Yes, I’m fine. We’re fine. Everything’s fine. Let’s go. Bye Draco. We’re fine. Let’s go, Harry.” Draco watched as the witch viciously grabbed Scarhead- er… _Potter’s_ elbow and rushed out of the potions lab.

“Why, _hello_ Draco. Is everything alright?” The blond heard a sickly sweet voice ask from behind him.

Of course.

Pansy stood, flanked by Blaise, Goyle, and a number of other Housemates, waiting for him so they could leave class. She had an all-knowing smirk on her face that Draco wanted to hex off.

“What did you do?” He growled. She rolled her eyes. It appeared to be becoming a habit of late.

“I _told_ you it was harmless.” Draco couldn’t really argue with it. Aside from hearing Granger’s thoughts, it hadn’t hurt anyone and he assumed it would fade sometime….right?

“When does it end?”

“Seven days. Honestly, it’s just a bit of fun, Drakey. This way, if you touch her by accident you’ll have to listen to her go on and on about books or bloody elf rights.”

“Just her?”

“Mhm. The potion you took had one of her hairs in it.” Pansy looked far too proud of herself.

“Do I even want to know how you got her hair?”

“I pulled it, obviously, walking down the hall. Potty and Weasel almost fought me over it, but the little swot actually stopped them, can you believe it?” If possible, she looked even smugger of the so called accomplishment.

Draco brushed past her and the rest of the group, instead making his way to the library, where he might find a few minutes of peace. Besides, he had a Transfiguration assignment due on Monday.

About ten minutes later, he found himself an empty table to the side in the library and spread out his textbooks. The space was partially obscured by bookshelves and had actual cushions on the chairs, instead of the usual uncomfortable benches. Before long, Draco was deeply engrossed in his paper, writing just a bit more than required, as usual. It wasn’t until he was distracted by a soft thud that he realized how long he’d been there.

The sky was growing dark and a slight pang in his stomach signaled that it must be dinner time, if not past it. Also, Hermione Granger was wrestling with her book bag, which had fallen from her shoulder and knocked over several books from the nearby shelf.

“Granger?” She looked up and met his gaze.

“Sorry! I didn’t know anyone was over here. I tried to be quiet and leave but…” She motioned to the fallen books, indicating what had kept her silent retreat from happening.

“Allow me,” Draco picked up his wand and sent the books back to where they belonged, as opposed to Granger’s method: picking them up and returning them the muggle way. She shook her head minutely, as if using magic should have been the obvious choice, and stood. For a moment though, she looked like she wasn’t sure where to go. In an effort to dispel any discomfort, Draco extended the metaphorical olive branch.

“Do…you need somewhere to sit?”

“Hm?” Her head snapped back to him from where she had been looking throughout the rest of the packed library. “Um, yes, I guess so. Everywhere else is full.”

Draco motioned to the seat across from him and cleared away his belongings from that side of the table. Granger smiled a bit and sat down, taking out her textbooks and parchment.

“Thank you, Draco.”

“Think nothing of it.”

As the pair worked in relative silence, Draco’s curiosity for the witch’s mind grew. Every now and then he would sneak a glance her way, pondering what thoughts could be causing the crease in her brow or make her chew the end of her quill. Already she had ink stains on her fingers and cheek and the Slytherin held back a chuckle. Not well enough though.

“Hm? Did you say something, Draco?” Granger glanced up at him with her ink-stained cheek; there was some on her nose too. He noticed that her lower lip pouted just a bit when she asked her question.

“No. Not me.” She didn’t’ seem convinced, but let him pretend nothing had happened. She turned back to her own essay. “You just…” Merlin, why did he have to say something? She picked her head up once more.

“Yes?” Draco stared as she held his gaze. He noticed the tint that was beginning to take over her cheeks the longer their eyes locked and he had to know what was going through her mind. Good thing he had a way of finding out…

“You have some ink…right…” Draco reached over the table and cupped his hand over her cheek, lightly brushing at the smear with his thumb.

_He’s touching you! He’s touching you! What do we do? Stay calm, Hermione. Just…don’t do anything stupid. Nothing bad is happening. He’s just touching your face. He’s being very nice. Very, very nice. Oh Merlin, his eyes are so nice. Why is he touching you? Does he like you? No, don’t be stupid. That’s ridiculous. He’s hated you forever. He’s just….why is he touching you? Is…is he smiling?_

Draco realized he was staring the entire time he held her face, only when he heard her saying-thinking that he was smiling. He hadn’t realized he was doing that. The blond was more interested in the rambling thoughts of the Gryffindor witch in front of him. He removed his hand though, not wanting to add to the awkwardness.

“T-thanks, Draco.”

“You’re welcome, Granger.

“Hermione.”

“What?”

“Hermione. My name. You can call me Hermione.” He paused, but then nodded in affirmation.

“Hermione.” She smiled and returned to her work. They sat together for the rest of the evening, until Madam Pince came over to let them know the hour and that the library would be closing. They took a few minutes to gather their things and exit the room. With a small wave, Granger, no, Hermione smiled and headed towards Gryffindor Tower, leaving Draco to make his own way to the Dungeons.

Later that night, after he had changed and lay in bed, Draco looked back on the day and his run-ins with the Gryffindor princess. They hadn’t been entirely unpleasant. In fact, they had been highly entertaining, almost nice. He knew Pansy had concocted the potion as some sort of mischief, but he couldn’t find it in himself to be upset that he had been forced to drink it. Maybe he wouldn’t be angry with the Slytherin witch after all.

 

000000~~~~000000

 

The next morning, Draco spotted Hermione across the Great Hall, sitting with Potter and Weasley as usual. The boys were wearing their Quidditch gear in preparation for the match against Ravenclaw that day and were consuming more food than even that oaf Hagrid could eat. Draco watched as the brunette smiled politely at her friends, undoubtedly in response to Quidditch related comments. He noticed that her thumb held a spot in the book she had in her hand, surely eager to get back to whatever reading she had been doing before being dragged into the conversation.

“Something on your mind, Draco?” Pansy eyed him as she sat down and began serving herself a modest collection of fruit and pastries.

“Not at all.”

“Sure about that? Not any frizzy haired swots?” He glared at his “friend” from the corner of his eye. She smirked at him and glanced at the object of his attention.

“I have to go.” He didn’t care if he was being rude. Maybe he could go on hating Pansy, despite how not-awful her damn potion was. He stood abruptly and left the table, drawing the eyes of a certain Gryffindor witch in the process.

His newly-fouled mood stayed with him as he walked a lap around the lake and as he sat down next to his preferred tree in an attempt to calm himself. What was going on with him? Why had Pansy's words even bothered him so much? It was just a stupid Gryffindor. A stupid Gryffindor witch who had saved his life, likely more than once. It was just a stupid potion that made it so he could hear her thoughts whenever he touched her. This whole situation was stupid.

Pansy had said it wasn’t poison. She wasn't lying, but she also said it wasn't a love potion. Was _that_ a lie? Not that he was in love with the witch. That would be absurd. Draco scoffed into the morning air at the thought. No, he wasn't in love with her. Just...curious. Yes. Curious. But the blond couldn't help but wonder if _maybe_ the potion he had taken was more than just giving him the ability to hear her thoughts. Maybe it _was_ influencing him somehow.

There was only one thing he could do to solve this problem. He would have to avoid Granger-Hermione- until the potion wore off. In another five and a half days. Assuming Pansy wasn't lying about that. Why did they all trust that blasted witch? She was always scheming. Of course, then again, they were all incredibly inebriated at the time and couldn't pass sensible judgments.

Draco later made his way to the Slytherin stands for the Quidditch match that day. Most of the school was already present and both teams were flying laps as a warm up. Before he realized what he was doing, the blond’s gaze followed the red “Potter” jersey to where it stopped by the Gryffindor stands, directly in front of Wealestte. But it wasn’t the couple that drew Draco’s attention, rather the bushy-haired girl nearby. Hermione stood, red and gold war paint streaks under her eyes, beaming at her friends’ happiness. The sight brought a tiny smile to the Slytherin’s mouth…not that he realized it until his increasingly intolerable Housemate mentioned it.

“You might wana wipe that smile off your face before someone gets the idea you’re enjoying a _Gryffindor_ game,” Pansy mocked from beside him.

“The only thing I’m enjoying is the possibility of Potter falling off his broom.” Honestly, why was it so difficult for him to _not_ be a prick?

“Sure, that’s certainly what it looks like. Not like you were just staring at the Gryffindor princess or anything.”

“I wasn’t.”

“Okay.”

“I _wasn’t_.”

“ _Okay_.” The pair stood in silence as some second year began announcing the members of each team for the entire stadium to hear. Draco glanced at the players zooming past, wishing he were flying his own broom, if only to distract his thoughts from the Gryffindor who stood almost directly across from him on the opposite side of the field.

After Potter’s name was called, he watched as her smile grew to impossible proportions along with her friends and they all waved to the Chosen One as he flew by once more. His ginger girlfriend threw something that looked like glitter at him, Draco assumed in celebration. A small part of Draco wished it would land in the Gryffindor’s eyes and prevent him from playing the game. If that were to happen though, he wouldn’t have the pleasure of defeating him during the Gryffindor/Slytherin game in a few weeks…maybe. Again, he needed to make a conscious effort to not be a twat. They had essentially saved his life; the least he could do is be cordial to the trio.

As Hermione cheered, her gaze followed the Gryffindor team, who had just come across the seating area Draco occupied. Her eyes locked on his and her smile didn’t waver. In fact, she waved at him, continuing to cheer and smile brightly. For a moment, Draco feared a blush may be rising from his collar. Fortunately though, she was too far away to notice. Madam Hooch throwing the quaffle into the air signaled the beginning of the game and everyone’s attention was diverted to the scene, effectively allowing Draco to break Hermione’s eyes contact. The game was a bit underwhelming, with Gryffindor demolishing their opponent and winning 480 to 90. There weren’t even any serious injuries.

Dinner arrived with much fanfare, most of the school celebrating Gryffindor’s victory. The crowds were so rambunctious in fact, that Draco had trouble maneuvering his way to the Slytherin table.

 _Oh Merlin, I’ve bumped into him. Act normal. You were pushed. Nothing to worry about. Just apologize, it’s fine._  Draco heard a familiar voice as a body crashed into him from behind once he finally managed to enter the Great Hall. Turning, he spotted a nervously smiling Hermione Granger attempting to right herself from being pushed into him. The paint smudged across her cheeks added an almost childlike innocence to the war heroine and he found himself tucking a loose lock of hair behind her ear in an attempt to hear more of her thoughts.

_He doesn’t seem to mind too much. He’s been awfully nice lately. Is he ill? No, of course not, Hermione. Why would someone have to be ill just to be acting nicely? He’s just…being nice. Like his hair. Bloody Hell, Hermione! Do not think his hair is nice. Ugh! Language! You are not some barbarian like Ronald. You don’t use words like ‘bloody’. There. I thought it again. Draco’s looking at you like an idiot. Say something!_

“Thanks,” Hermione said, and Draco withdrew his hand.

“You’re welcome.” They stood there for a moment and Draco found that the urge to hear more was just a tad bit overwhelming. “You have a little something…” He said before he cupped her face as he did in the library and rubbed a thumb over some of the paint staining her face.

_He’s touching you again. Why is he doing that? His hands are so warm. It actually feels quite nice, doesn’t it? Not at all like a snake’s supposed to feel. And he’s staring. Is that strange? Probably. But…he’s been so different since…everything._

Draco listened to her stream of consciousness as his thumb trailed from her cheek to her bottom lip. He told himself there was some paint smudged there, to justify the motion. In truth, her lips were naturally that pink and he was fascinated that he could hear so much without her actually saying anything. He brought his other hand to the opposite side of her face to softly wipe at the paint there too, effectively holding her face towards his own. She was left staring at him, almost unblinkingly, with a blush quickly taking over her cheeks.

“Draco!” The pair was snapped out of their reverie abruptly to the sound of Pansy’s voice. “There you are! Your dinner’s going to get cold.” She took his hand and dragged him farther into the Great Hall, seating him at the Slytherin table. During the short walk, he kept stealing glances back at the Gryffindor princess, and as she slowly made her way towards her corresponding table, she did the same.

The next day, Hermione wasn’t at breakfast, so Draco sought her out in the library. She wasn’t there either. Perhaps she was still in Gryffindor tower? Slightly disheartened, the blond opted for a stroll around the lake. He didn’t make it even halfway through, before he saw the object of his searching seated beneath his favorite tree, writing what he assumed was an essay.

“Hermione,” he said once he was close enough for her to hear. Startled, her head snapped up in surprise, before she smiled brightly, moving her hand to block the sun’s rays from her vision.

“Draco, good morning! Would you like to sit down?” She asked, clearing some of her books and parchments to make space next to her against the tree trunk.

“Thanks,” he replied as he lowered himself, never taking his eyes off of her. It was then that he realized he had no plan for how to continue his conversation with her. He had searched for the girl for the better part of an hour without preparing what they would even talk about. “So…exciting game yesterday, hm?”

“Oh? The quidditch game? I suppose,” she hummed, adding a finishing touch to her essay and turning back to him. “You probably found it a bit more thrilling than I did, but I’m glad we won.”

“Yeah, so you can lose to Slytherin.” Blast! Why couldn’t he just be nice?

“Is that so?” The brunette asked with a small grin and gave a friendly glare through the corner of her eye. “And what makes you so sure about that? Gryffindor is unstoppable, you know.”

“Says you,” he retorted, glad that she hadn’t taken his comment badly. “But you’re biased. I bet if you had friends in Slytherin you wouldn’t be so quick to make that conclusion.”

“Well, I’ve got you and I still think Gryffindor’s going to win,” she huffed good-naturedly and stuck out her tongue.

“We’re friends?” Immediately, Hermione’s smile dropped and she glanced at the ground in embarrassment.

“Oh, I-uh-just meant…well…things are different and…” She seemed to lose her words, so Draco took her hand in his, causing her gaze to flick back to him.

_Does he still hate me after all? I hope not. He’s been so kind lately…I thought he was different now. Maybe he doesn’t want to be friends after all. Is he smiling? Maybe he’s just going to call me a mudblood and run off._

Draco grimaced at the last thought that crossed her mind and watched as her eyes got misty with the beginnings of tears. As he had done twice before, he brought his hand to her face and wiped a droplet that had begun to fall.

_He’s not saying anything. Say Something Hermione! You look like an idiot._

“We don’t have to be friends…if you don’t want to…” she murmured finally. Casting her eyes downward once more.

“But I do.”

“Really?” _Maybe more? Who knows? Wait, no of course not more, Hermione. Even if he wasn’t a Slytherin, he’s Draco Malfoy! He’s always hated you! Even if he’s being nice now, he’d never want to date you. Not that you want to date him. That’s crazy. You’re going crazy. You should leave before anything else crazy happens._ “I-I have to go.”

Hermione stood from her spot and, still sniffling, rushed to gather her supplies, before she bid Draco goodbye as quickly as she politely could, dismantling the connection he had when he was holding her cheek. Almost instantly, Draco found himself sitting alone under his favorite tree, his arm still outstretched where his company had been. Should he go after her? Where did she even run off to?

With nothing else to do that day, and no idea where else to search for the girl, Draco went back to the Slytherin common room, in search of something to occupy his mind. But it was someone else’s mind he was more interested in.

Nothing held his attention for the rest of the day and he found himself holding a book that night that he had read the same line of at least twenty times as he contemplated ways to run into Hermione. It was late though, and he likely wouldn’t find her in the halls even if he managed to think of a reason. Eager to see her the next day, he went to his dorm and prepared for bed.

He had forgotten the following day was Monday and his chances of running into her by “accident” had greatly diminished. Fortunately though, Slytherins had Herbology with Gryffindors in the afternoon.

“Granger,” Draco greeted as soon as he got the chance. The bushy haired Gryffindor was repotting some dittany, careful to avoid breathing in too much of the toxic vapors being given off by the distressed plant.

“Draco,” she tilted her head in his direction, but kept her eyes on her task so as to not risk losing her focus. “I thought we agreed to use each other’s first names.”

“Oh, right.” How could he have forgotten already? He had found that he even _liked_ being so familiar with the girl. Force of habit. “Hermione.”

“Yes, Draco?” She had finally finished repotting the shrub and had faced him fully, a polite smile gracing her features.

“You’re uh…repotting some dittany then?”

“I am. Just finished actually.”

“Right, right.”

“Have you finished yours?” she asked him, searching for a way to continue the conversation.

“Uh, no. I…” Wanted to talk to you? Wanted to hear your thoughts? No, that sounded too bizarre and would scare the poor girl away. “I just wanted to know if you needed help, but I guess I’ll be on my way then…” He turned to return to his station, accepting that his interaction was a failure, despite his entire night of planning every scenario that could come to mind.

“Do you need some help, Draco?” The blond stopped mid-step and faced the girl again. He was about to say ‘no’ but realized the opportunity afforded to him in her question.

“Yes, please. I’d like that.” She smiled, nodded and joined him at his station, where the pair collected a shrub designated to be repotted and an empty pot for it.

“Alright,” Hermione began once they were ready. “So, be careful not to breathe too deeply. Then, just hold the stalk right here.” She grabbed the plant in the correct place and motioned for Draco to follow suit. He did, placing his hand over hers.

_No way does he need my help. He’s second in our class…after me. So why did he agree to my help? He did say he wants to be friends. Oh Merlin, does he want to be more than friends? I don’t even know how I feel about that!_

The pair maneuvered the plant out of the first pot and slowly moved it to the second. Draco watched Hermione’s face the entire time, as a variety of emotions crossed over it. She would make a terrible Slytherin. After a moment of listening to her thoughts, their eyes met.

_Would I want to be more than friends? He has been very different this year. Maybe everything that happened’s changed him? I could certainly understand that. He’s staring again, Hermione. Why does he always stare? Does he want to kiss you? Of course not, that’s ridiculous! But what would it feel like?_

At her last thought, Draco gasped, earning a confused look from his Herbology partner, which quickly turned to panic. Quite suddenly, Draco’s vision went black and his last thought was that he forgot not to breathe too deeply.

 

~~~~0000~~~~

 

He woke to soft light filtering through the large windows of the Hospital wing. Of course he was positioned in the perfect place for the light to hit him directly in the eyes. Once he had gained his bearings, Draco sat up in his bed, trying to determine what time it was. He didn’t have to think for very long before the curtain surrounding his space was pulled to the side and a familiar Gryffindor appeared.

“Oh! Draco, you’re awake!” Hermione’s face lit up when she saw him sitting there and she moved to set her school bag down next to the chair to the side of Draco’s bed. She sat down and took his hand, almost automatically. “How are you feeling?”

_I can’t believe how worried I was. Pull yourself together, Hermione! Why should you be so worried? He has other friends! But…they’re not here right now, are they? Of course they aren’t; it’s seven in the morning. They’re probably still at breakfast. Do they even know Draco’s in the Hospital wing? Maybe not. Well, I’m here now, so at least someone can make sure he’s alright. Does he even want my help?_

“Yes,” Draco said without realizing.

“What?” Hermione asked, arching an eyebrow.

“What?”

“’Yes’ what?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Granger.”

“Hermione.”

“…Hermione.” The Slytherin glanced away, desperate for a distraction. His clothes had gotten rumpled since he was admitted…when was that anyway? “How long have I been here?” The girl’s thoughts had indicated that it was early morning, but that meant…

“You’ve been unconscious since yesterday afternoon. Professor Sprout asked me to bring you here. I hope you don’t mind that I stayed until visiting hours ended. I came straight from breakfast just now too.”

“…Why?”

_Why? Because I want to be his friend…or more than that? I don’t even know! I hope he isn’t upset. What if he is? Maybe I should go._

“Sorry, I’ll just…” Hermione began to stand from her seat, but the hand holding hers gripped tighter, though not painfully so.

“No,” Draco said. “Stay…please.”

“Alright,” was her response after a short moment of eye-contact. Draco tried to listen to her mind’s ramblings some more, but at that point it was a jumble of confused emotions regarding their friendship, or rather, if there even was one.

The pair spent the rest of the morning before classes discussing their classes and their plans for the future, post-Hogwarts. They found that they actually had similar interests. Both wanted to join the Ministry. Both wanted to become involved in the war recovery effort, much to Hermione’s surprise. When Draco heard her skepticism come through in her thoughts, he resolved to find a way to prove it to her someday after they’d graduated. Before long though, Madam Pomfrey joined them and informed her patient that he was free to go to class, which would be starting shortly. Reluctantly, the two went their separate ways; they wouldn’t see each other for the rest of the day, having no classes together on Tuesdays.

“What’s going on with you?” Draco was startled out of his daydreaming (which he hadn’t even realized he had been doing) by his former-best friend, Pansy.

“Nothing.” Draco attempted to go back to his transfiguration note-taking, however, he could still feel the girl staring at him. “Leave me alone, Pans.”

“Do you... _like_ her?” Draco tightened his mouth into a line and didn’t respond. How could he? This only made Pansy come to her own conclusion.

“But she’s a _mudblood_.”

“Don’t call her that!” He had meant to whisper angrily at the witch, but Professor McGonagall had apparently chosen that moment to stop speaking, leaving the classroom in dead silence and amplifying his minor outburst.

“Perhaps Mr. Malfoy has something to share with the class?” McGonagall asked as Draco’s face paled once he was put on the spot in front of the Slytherin and Ravenclaw eighth years. Not that he cared what the Slytherins thought about him, but the Ravenclaws might gossip.

“No, Professor.” The Headmistress huffed and turned back to her demonstration. Once she was sufficiently distracted, Pansy whispered properly to her friend.

“Don’t be such a prat. It’s not my fault you like her. That potion was just supposed to annoy you for a week, not make you discover some undying love for a mud-er- _muggleborn_.”

“I’m not in love with her!” Draco nearly shouted again. Panicked, he glanced back to the professor, who hadn’t noticed the disturbance. “I’m _not_ in love with her.” He repeated more quietly.

“Sure, you sound really convincing.”

“Well, it’s true.”

“Whatever.”

“It’s only been like, two days.”

“Five,” Pansy corrected while keeping her eyes on Mcgonagall’s demonstration.

“No it hasn’t.”

“Yeah, it has. You took the potion Thursday night. It’s Tuesday now.”

“Oh.” So that meant that this newfound appreciation for Hermione may not have been as strange as he thought. If they hadn’t had the history they did, perhaps it could have progressed this quickly organically too, even without his new potion-gifted mind-reading abilities.

The rest of the day went by uneventfully, leaving Draco to mull over whatever it was he was feeling for the bushy-haired Gryffindor. Although he couldn’t come to terms with admitting he had any _feelings_ , exactly. They were more, just…feelings. He wasn’t about to marry the girl, but he couldn’t help thinking more about her as the day went on.

Wednesday was abysmal. They had no classes together _again_ , and Draco’s urge to touch the little swot and hear what she was thinking was becoming unbearable. As he sat in DADA, he snapped at any other student who dared speak to him, be they Slytherin or Hufflepuff. Blasted Hufflepuffs. How were they always so cheery? Couldn’t they see he was sulking?

By dinner time, the blond could be found staring across the Great Hall as Hermione was quietly reading the latest book she borrowed from the library. Some great tome that looked nearly half her size. It fit on the table only because she had managed to push a number of dishes away to clear the necessary space, not that Weasley was complaining. He looked all too pleased to have more food laying right in front of him. After some time, the girl leaned back, eyes still on the book, but a crease was forming above her brow as if she was thinking about something. What was she thinking? Draco had to know!

“Hermione.” The girl in question jumped a bit, startled out of her concentration and looked up at the person addressing her. It was Draco. She hadn’t even heard him approaching.

“Ma-foy,” Weasley growled through a mouthful of what looked like shepherd’s pie. “Wha’re oo oin ‘ere?” Draco ignored him, keeping his eyes on the prize…not that Hermione was a prize. She was just…well, he was focusing on her right now.

“Draco? Can I help you?” She asked, her voice a bit uncertain, no doubt because he had never approached the Gryffindor table as a friend before. Perhaps he was looking to start trouble after his recent good behavior.

“I just thought I’d come by and see what it was you were reading. It looks interesting,” he attempted to say as smoothly as possible. Weasley wasn’t buying it.

“You need to get out of here, Death Eater!” Draco grimaced as the redhead shouted almost loud enough to be heard over the commotion of the Hall.

“Ronald!” Hermione growled at him, her eyes lighting up in fury. “How dare you!”

“B-but, Hermione, he-”

“I don’t _care_! We have all gotten past the war and Draco has come over here to say hello. He has done nothing wrong and you’re being incredibly rude.”

“But-”

“No.” Abruptly, the fiery witch stood, whipped out her wand and shrunk the large book on the table to put it in her bag. “Come on, Draco, take a walk with me.” Without a second thought, she took his hand and led him out of the Hall, as nearly everyone watched them leave.

_The nerve of that boy! Just because Draco’s made mistakes doesn’t mean he’s evil. He has every right to say hello to me, or Harry, or anyone he wants. Why can’t Ron just understand that he was exonerated? He probably doesn’t know what that word means….that was mean…I shouldn’t think that way. Of course he knows what ‘exonerated’ means…maybe._

“Thank you,” Draco’s voice broke through the relative silence of the Entrance Hall. The witch twirled around to meet his eyes.

“What?”

“I said thank you, for sticking up for me back there.” Draco didn’t give much thought to whatever Weasley said to or about him, but if Hermione was the one to put him in his place in Draco’s honor, he’d take it.

“Oh, well, Ron was being a prat. You didn’t deserve to be spoken to that way.”

_And, I really didn’t like hearing it. Draco’s not a Death Eater anymore. He’s changed for the better; why can’t anyone else see that?_

Hermione looked up at the blond, who was struggling to figure out how this girl who had every right to hate him had been giving him a second chance.

“Allegorical Astronomical Anomalies.” Hermione said suddenly.

“What?”

“The book I was reading. Allegorical Astronomical Anomalies Volume III, Part VI.”

“Is that for a class? I don’t remember it being assigned.” Nor did Draco think a professor would assign a textbook so large.

“No,” Hermione laughed. _Just some light reading. Does Draco like astronomy? Am I boring him? I probably am._

“What’s it about?” The blond asked, catching on to her train of thought. If he could get the girl to tell him about something she found interesting, perhaps she’d enjoy spending more time with him in the future. At his question, Hermione’s eyes lit up and she began regaling him with the boundless information the book discussed, involving strange star alignments and their possible meanings. Apparently she found it especially interesting that the entire book was written in the form of poetry, making the findings flow as if telling a story.

Somehow, the pair found themselves seated on a bench outside the castle as Hermione rambled on about the book and its contents. Draco found her spirit for the subject fascinating and felt almost no need to hold her hand as she spoke, confident that every thought going through her mind was being spoken out loud. He held her hand lightly in his anyway though, comforted by the warmth it provided in the chilly March air.

“Hermione!” They heard from a distance after some time. The sky had grown darker and apparently Potter and Weasley had come searching for their friend. The pair stood near the doorway to the castle, not getting too close to their friend and her new companion.

“Oh, Harry! Is something wrong?” Hermione called back.  Potter shouted something else, but the wind picked up, carrying his voice away. The two Gryffindor boys were forced to join the couple at the bench.

“Hermione, didn’t you say you’d help me with that Charms essay?” Weasley asked while shuffling his feet awkwardly. The witch quirked an eyebrow and glanced from him, to Draco, and back again.

“Um, no I don’t remember. Of course I’ll help you though. Show it to me when I get back to the common room.”

“Why don’t you come back now and help?” Hermione’s eyebrow rose even higher as she considered what her friend was asking.

“Ron, I’m having a very nice chat right now. I’ll help you later.” With that, she turned back to face Draco and continue what she was saying.

“But Hermione-”

“Ronald! You are being very rude,” she glared at him over her shoulder. “I’ll help you later.”

“But-” Before the redhead was able to argue and take a step forward, Harry blocked his path, shaking his head at the boy. Calmly, he turned Ron around so they could return to the castle, calling over his shoulder to the witch.

“Just, make sure you come inside soon. It’s getting dark,” he told her. She nodded and gave him a small smile, as if to say that there were no hard feelings between them.

As smug as the girl’s defense of him made Draco feel, he couldn’t deny that it was in fact getting dark and it was still the school year. He had homework to get done. For a few more moments, he listened to Hermione prattle on about how well the prose within the text work to detail the significance of the different star alignments. When she took a breath however, he interrupted as politely as he could and suggested they take their conversation inside where they could escape the cool breeze that sunset had brought. She agreed and, before either of them realized, he had walked her all the way to Gryffindor Tower.

“Oh, here already?” She asked nobody in particular. Draco could see the emotions crossing her face as she turned to bid him farewell.

 _This is almost like a date isn’t it? The chivalrous boy walking the girl to her door. Oh, shut up Hermione! This is not a date and he’s not going to kiss you goodnight! Oh Merlin, why would you even think that? Of course he won’t. Even if he has been holding your hand all evening. Why_ has _he been holding my hand? Does he like me? Of course not! But does he? Oh I don’t know! But what if he did? Would I like it? Maybe?_

Draco couldn’t help but smile a bit at the raging thoughts running about the witch’s mind. It really sounded like she _wanted_ him to kiss her, didn’t it? He watched as she glanced from him to the portrait of the fat lady, who appeared like she didn’t approve much of the wizard, but was choosing to see how this interaction went.

Before he went and did something stupid, he bid the Gryffindor a quick goodnight, spun on his heel and began the trek down to the dungeons. He didn’t look back, but if he did, he would’ve seen the bushy-haired witch watching him go for as long as he was within sight.

~~~~0000~~~~

Draco slept in the next day, having a free period in the morning. It was a good thing, since his dreams seemed to be pleasantly taken over by the certain Gryffindor princess. Not that he was about to admit to that, of course. After nearly a week, the Slytherin was convinced he could hear the witch's thoughts even in his sleep, much to his delight.

It was a little after 10 in the morning when Draco finally stretched atop his bed in preparation for his day. The motion was especially relaxing after taking care of his morning “excitement” just a few moments beforehand. As he pulled aside his bed curtains and stood to get dressed, the blond pondered the ways he could “accidentally” bump into Hermione. It was Thursday , so the pair would have double charms together. Maybe he could _charm_ her. Draco snorted and shook his head at the cheesy pun.

There was a slight spring in his step, that only other Slytherins were able to spot, as Draco made his way to breakfast, or in everybody else’s case lunch. His good mood was only slightly dampened when he failed to spot the bushy head of hair among the Gryffindor table. No matter. Some people just didn’t eat lunch sometimes, or they lost track of time in the library, or they went to the kitchens to take lunch elsewhere. The possibilities were endless. He didn’t let it bother him, and when he joined his fellow housemates on the walk to the charms classroom, he didn’t let it bother him that Hermione chose to sit with Longbottom, instead of him. At least, he tried his best not to let it bother him, but the absence of her thoughts racing through his head was beginning to make him uncomfortable.

“Drake,” Pansy stage whispered from his right. “What’s going on? Pull yourself together.” The dark-haired witch cast her atmospheric charm with ease as she spoke to her friend, who was fidgeting in his seat.

“What do you mean? I’m fine.”

“No you’re not. It’s Granger isn’t it?” She glanced at him from the corner of her eye, making sure to focus on her charm as well. “Is she starting to grate on you? Can’t handle it anymore? Want the antidote?” Draco’s head shot up.

“You have an antidote?” Not that Draco wanted it. He was actually greatly enjoying his time in the Gryffindor’s head. Pansy scoffed.

“No, but I sure want one.” Draco then remembered that he had forced his friend into the same predicament as him.

“You’re hearing Granger’s thoughts?”

“Not Granger, but I can’t wait till this is all over. I might Avada myself if I had to suffer like this forever.” Pansy had a point, soon the potion would wear off and Hermione’s thoughts would be a mystery to Draco once more. He frowned at the idea and glanced her way. She was showing Longbottom the correct wand movements for the charm. Draco had to grudgingly admit that at least the boy’s skills in magic had improved since First Year, especially since the Final Battle. He might actually make a decent wizard someday.

“Granger!” He called out to her as the class was clearing out. Her head snapped up from putting her supplies in her school bag. When she realized who had called her, she tilted her head and quirked an eyebrow. Of course, he forgot to call her by her first name. “Hermione.”

“Yes, Draco?” She responded with a smile as he approached her.

“Hey, Hermione, let’s get going, yeah?” Weasley asked from his spot behind the witch.

“You two go on ahead. I’m not in a rush.”

“But, we’ve got dinner.” It was clear the red-haired wizard was grasping at any possible excuse to get the witch away from the Slytherin. Potter stood next to him and seemed less anxious to escape, but still wary of the blond.

“I’ll catch up later, Ron. Go ahead.” The wizard’s face soon matched the color of his hair as he stayed where he was and clearly struggled to be polite-ish as well as getting his friend to leave with him. Fortunately, before the shade of red in his face evolved to purple, Potter took the boy’s shoulder and steered him towards the door.

“Would you like to take a walk with me, Hermione?” When she smiled at him, Draco felt his chest do something funny. It was as if his heart jumped into the air, leaving his body feeling very light, but also somehow stealing his breath away. He wasn’t sure if he liked the sensation. It would take some more experimentation to find out. Always the gentleman, Draco extended his arm for her and she took it, immediately allowing him into her mind.

 _He’s looking very nice today. Did he comb his hair differently? Oh, is that a new cologne? Does he wear cologne or does he just smell that good naturally? Do_ I _smell? Probably. What would I expect after working with Neville in the greenhouses all morning? I probably smell like manure!_

Draco took a quick, inconspicuous sniff of her hair and could attest that she had a pleasant earthy scent. Feigning checking something in her bag however, Hermione gently extricated her hand from the crook in Draco’s arm and cut off his connection. He frowned, but hid it well from the girl.

“Is everything alright?” He asked.

“Yes, I just…um…I think I forgot something in my dorm.”

“I’ll walk you.”

“You really don’t have to do that. I’ll be alright on my own.”

“But-” She turned to walk away and Draco lightly grasped the strap of her bag. It wasn’t enough to activate their connection, although Draco fought to hear something, anything that could help him make her stay.

“I need to-” she began.

“But you smell _nice_ ,” he blurted. Immediately, Draco felt his face flush in horrible embarrassment. How could he just speak his mind like that? Surely she would think he’d lost his marbles and would run back to Potty and Weasel to gossip about strange Death Eater Draco finally going nutters.

But she didn’t.

“What?” She asked, her eyes widened slightly as she stood her ground, with the Slytherin’s hand still wrapped around her bag strap. Well, it was all or nothing he supposed.

“I…like…the way you…smell.”

“You do?”

“…yeah.” He withdrew his hand and moved it to the back of his neck, trying to cool the growing heat that had gathered there. “I just…you smell nice and…could you just walk with me?”

It took a moment for the confusion on Hermione’s face to calm before she smiled, nodded and took her place in his arm once again. Draco tried to let out the breath he had been holding without drawing attention to it, but her thoughts told a different story. She did notice his exhale. She didn’t pay attention to much else that gave away his nerves, however, since she was much too focused on her own. Her mind prattled on about his comment on her pleasant scent and how she could try to replicate it in the future.

All too soon, the pair found themselves at the entrance to the Great Hall but, instead of parting ways, Draco opted to walk the witch to the Gryffindor table. He chose to ignore the gasps of surprise and glares sent his way from the House members and kept his eyes only on the brunette laced into his arm. She too, appeared unfazed by the many eyes on them and graciously thanked him for his company before he could linger no longer and had to make his way back to the Slytherin table where his own friends were waiting for him.

Pansy eyed him with a slight sneer, but said nothing. His other Housemates seemed too preoccupied with their own meals and whatever else going on in their heads. The lack of dialogue was actually peaceful and allowed Draco to eat his meal while watching across the room as Hermione pulled out a book and read while eating. He smiled.

~~~~0000~~~~

As soon as Draco got to the Great Hall the following morning, he knew it was going to be a bad day. Slytherin and Gryffindor shared no classes _and_ Hermione wasn’t seated at her table. Where in Salazar’s name was that girl? In his effort to track her down, he practically inhaled his meal, made some weak excuse to his friends for leaving, and raced to the greenhouses, remembering that she had spent much of the day there yesterday.

She wasn’t there.

The trip had taken up too much time, and Draco had to get to Arithmancy. To make matters worse, it was a double period, meaning he couldn’t search for her between classes. As he walked to class, he felt an increasing tension in his jaw and his mouth was gradually setting into a grim line.

“Oi, Draco. What’s got your knickers in a twist?” Greg asked once Draco arrived, but had chosen the wrong time to speak to the blond, resulting in a stinging jinx to the face. It was clear to everybody in the room after that that he was not to be trifled with for the rest of the class.

Normally, Draco was very good at the mathematical equations presented by the subject matter, but this day proved to be a challenge. The numbers on the parchment muddled together and even Pansy finished her assignments before him. They may not have been correct, but that wasn’t the point. The point was that Draco was in a bad mood and Hermione wasn’t around to make it better. He grumbled as he wrote equation after equation, struggling to finish the assigned material before class let out. He barely succeeded, only completing it after stealing some answers from the raven-haired witch beside him.

“Potter,” Draco ground out upon approaching the Gryffindor table and finding Hermione missing _again_.

“Malfoy?” Weasley had actually stopped his chewing (if it could be called that) and turned his attention to the pair speaking. As if on cue, his face began growing red, whether in fury or embarrassment, Draco may never know.

“Where’s Hermione?”

“Oh ifs Er-mi-me mow, huh?” The redhead spat at the Slytherin, his face still full of peas and carrots, some of which fell out as he spoke. Draco ignored him, continuing to lock eyes with the boy-who-lived.

“Er… I think she’s in the common room? Or maybe the library. I’m not really sure.”

“What do you mean you’re not sure?” Draco’s irritation only seemed to be escalating as the day went on and Potter’s lack of knowledge wasn’t helping.

“I mean she said she had to study for our potions exam this afternoon and told us she was skipping lunch.” Of course, that would explain it. Damn Slughorn and his bloody exam! On a positive note, at least he would see her in class. A number of owls arriving for every Slytherin and Gryffindor eighth year had something to say about that.

 

_Dear students,_

_Due to illness, Friday afternoon potions classes are cancelled. I’m terribly sorry for the inconvenience, but please keep on top of the material, as the exam will be postponed until next week._

_Sincerely,_

_Professor Slughorn_

 

Draco growled and crumpled the letter that had been dropped off in front of him. The pitiful school owl sat before him, waiting for a piece of Draco’s sandwich, only to be waved off by the blond. Of course, since Hermione wasn’t in the Great Hall, the chances of her letter finding her in time were slim.

She had better be present at dinner.

She wasn’t.

“Potter!” Draco nearly shouted from right next to the boy, whose face completely betrayed his utter confusion at being addressed by Draco more than once in the day. They weren’t even dueling, which was incredibly unusual.

“Malfoy?”

“Where is she?”

“Who?”

“You know who!” Draco snarled.

“I took care of him last year. Weren’t you there? I think you saw it.” Another Gryffindor boy, Dean, Draco though his name was, laughed and put his arm up for a high-five, which Potter acquiesced.

“Granger! Hermione! Where is she?”

“Bloody hell, calm down,” Scarhead told him. “She’d run herself dry for the exam earlier. She went to bed early.”

“Go get her!” Draco knew he was being unreasonable, but he _really_ needed to see her.

“Why? She owe you money?” Weasley asked from his seat at the table. He had somehow managed to keep his face a normal color during the entire interaction, choosing to mostly observe.

“Never mind!” Draco stomped back to the Slytherin table and threw himself into a seat. Nobody tried speaking to him, having heard the conversation with the Gryffindors from across the Hall. He ate his meal with rushed fervor and didn’t even say goodbye when he left for the dungeons.

Draco very much wanted this day to be over. He was exhausted from being so angry all day and hoped Granger would be present for breakfast, otherwise he might go mad and do something drastic, like take a page from Sirius Black’s book and slash the portrait to Gryffindor Tower. Hopefully it wouldn’t come to that.

 

~~~~0000~~~~

Dawn broke and Draco Malfoy sprung out of his bed, eager to get to the Great Hall and see Hermione. Hardly anyone had risen yet, though the four long tables were covered in a variety of breakfast foods. And there, seated towards the middle of the Gryffindor table, sat Hermione Granger. Draco took a deep, satisfying breath and walked to the witch, focused so intently on the task that he didn’t realize how brightly he was smiling and attracting stares from the few students in the room.

“Hermione,” he greeted and watched as her head rose from her book to lock eyes with him. She smiled back.

“Draco, hello! How are you?”

“I’m-er, well.” He took a calming breath again and sat next to her before continuing. “I noticed you haven’t been at meals lately.”

“Oh right! I didn’t find out potions was canceled until class was supposed to start yesterday. I was pretty exhausted.”

“Are you alright now?” The blond asked while casually taking her hand in his. He told himself it was an act of sympathy, but he mostly wanted to make a connection to hear what she was thinking.

“Yes, I’m fine.” She said aloud, smiling. Draco frowned.

“Anything else?” He asked, attempting to spur a wave of thoughts. None came and Draco looked at their joined hands to make sure he was in fact holding hers and wasn’t imagining it. It wasn’t his imagination. He was holding her hand. But he couldn’t hear what she was thinking.

“Um, no?” She replied after a moment of confusion. They locked gazes again and Draco could _see_ the many thoughts reflected in her chocolate colored eyes, but he couldn’t hear them for himself. “Draco, are _you_ alright?”

“Yes. Yes I’m fine.” He muttered, unconsciously gripping her hand tighter. When she winced and shifted her fingers, he realized what he had done and let her go. “I-I should get back then.”

“Alright. It was nice to see you, Draco.” The witch beamed at him and he nodded, feeling the same tension from the previous day begin to make a return appearance in his shoulders.

He sat at the Slytherin table long enough for Pansy to arrive, pouncing on her as soon as she sat down.

“Pansy what did you do?” She raised an eyebrow and served herself some potatoes before speaking.

“You’re going to have to be more specific.”

“I can’t hear her anymore. Why?”

“Drakey, I already told you the potion wears off after a week.”

“It hasn’t been a whole week yet!” The witch turned from her plate and looked at him as if she’d never met a bigger idiot.

“Yes,” she enunciated slowly so he could understand. “It has. You took the potion last Thursday night. It’s Saturday now.”

“No!” His lips pursed together tightly in negation and his face went from pale to magenta in about half a second. “It can’t be!”

“It is,” she sighed, tired of his outburst already. “Are we done now? Can I eat?” Draco didn’t seem to know what to do, so he jumped from his seat and stormed out of the Hall.

“Draco!” He heard a familiar voice call from behind him after he had already made it halfway down the corridor. Spinning around, ready to bite the head off whoever it was that interrupted his mental tirade, he realized the voice had belonged to the witch that had plagued his thoughts for the past seven-eight-nine days and she was jogging up to meet him.

“Hermione?” He deflated once he took in her presence.

“Are you alright? You looked pretty upset back there.” She stared up at him with those big brown eyes and he felt his heart do that thing where it lifted out of his chest making him feel empty and full all at once.

“I-” He tried to say he was fine, but barely a squeak came out.

“Can I help somehow? I’m a good listener and-”

She didn’t get to finish because, before he could stop himself, Draco found his lips pressing firmly against hers. He cradled her head with both hands and almost cried when he felt her arms grip his shoulders in response, pulling him closer.

He wanted to tell her that he wanted to hear what she was thinking. He wanted to say that he couldn’t stop thinking about her and that when she looked into his eyes, she made his heart clench and he decided he liked it. That he wanted to keep feeling that way and hoped that she wanted to feel that way too. But instead of any of that, he kept kissing her in the corridor.

When they finally came up for air, he rested his forehead against hers, but kept his eyes closed, hoping that the moment would last forever if he didn’t allow himself to see the rejection on her face. Because of course she would reject him. Why would she say all the things he wanted to hear? He had been nothing but a bully to her up until a year or so ago. She deserved someone better than him. Kinder, braver, compassionate. Someone who wasn’t him.

Before he even opened his eyes, he drew back, preparing to step away. A soft hand at his cheek made him pause though, and his eyes opened on reflex. Draco’s eyebrows drew together in question and she gently pulled him back down to place another kiss on his lips, softer this time.

“Well,” she whispered when their hearts had slowed from the frantic rhythm their kissing had caused. “Are you alright now?”

“What’re you thinking right now?” He hummed a question with another question, still feeling a bit of withdrawal at not having a constant stream of consciousness for the witch.

“Nothing at all,” she smiled up at him.

“Then, yeah,” he laughed, pulling her against himself and planting his mouth firmly against hers again in between his words. “I’m feeling much better now.”


End file.
